


A Series of Birthday Events

by Chimaeran



Series: Not Such a Baby Bird Anymore [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood
Genre: AU, AU because fuck timelines, Age is never mentioned so you can decide but it's implied he's 18, Birthday Sex, Choking, Damian Wayne is Robin, M/M, Oral Sex, Robincest, Staff Kink, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 08:10:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5619772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimaeran/pseuds/Chimaeran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Damian's Birthday and everyone has decided to give him a joint gift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Series of Birthday Events

**Author's Note:**

> I never say his age, but it's implied he's 18. If you choose to make him younger, it's your prerogative.

Damian had told them no, when the family - or rather Drake and Grayson - had asked him if he wanted a party, for his special day. It was just another day to him, no big deal, at least not as much as they were making it out to be. When he was younger, sure, it was an important thing, his birthday. But now? Just another day.

Another day that he could patrol and not think about Damian Wayne. Just Robin. That's all. It was nice, being in that state of mind, now that he'd grown. He'd relaxed, over the years, become - a little - less of an ass, but he was still mostly the same. Mentally, anyway. Physically, though? He'd shot up, just like Bruce had expected, but what he hadn't was just how damn pretty the kid was going to be. And he really was. Not Tim Drake pretty - and God, was HE - but Dick Grayson pretty. He got it from Talia, clearly, everyone knew. It was pretty damn distracting but it certainly made visiting the manor, despite Bruce and his attitude, a bit less hard, on the others.

After seeing the disappointment in Tim and Dick, about not wanting a party, he fully expected not to see any of them. He figured they'd give him his space and just let him do his thing. For a while, it really seemed like he was right. He hadn't gotten any messages or calls from any of the three - yes, even Jason was talking to him more, these days. They got along, having similar mindsets, when it came to the punishing of criminals. It made Damian feel free, when he got to work with Red Hood, but he wouldn't admit it, out loud.

Standing on one of the taller rooftops, surveying and just generally watching people, Damian huffed. It was quiet and Damian was thankful. Though, after a while, it became too quiet.

Sighing to himself, Damian popped his neck and brought the staff he was holding - ‘borrowed’ from Tim and never given back - up to rest on his shoulders, leaning his hands on either side, just resting, like he was carrying one of those weird old water bucket contraptions, that small countries used. Tilting his head back and closing his eyes, he took in a breath, tensing when the air around him changed.

Rolling the staff over the top of his head, he brought it up, thrusting to the side, stopping just short of a familiar face. Sneering a bit, he huffed, not bringing the weapon down.

“Drake. What are you doing here?” Damian's voice wasn't bitter, but a tad annoyed. There went his quiet.

“Oh come on, Baby Bird,” the nickname made Damian flinch, “did you really think I wouldn't see you, for at least a bit, on your birthday?” Tim smiled, eyes shifting behind his mask, to the staff, so near his head. Reaching up, he gently smoothed a finger along it.

“This is mine.”

“Was. Now, what do you-” Damian tensed again, voice stopping short in his throat, when he watched as Tim leaned over and slowly, purposefully ran his tongue along a bit of the staff, skipping some, until he was at Damian's front hand, impossibly pink flesh slipping over one of his fingers.

“Is.” Tim said, when he pulled back. Smiling, he nudged the staff away, stepping forward and backing Damian into the structure - housing the stairs to the roof - behind him.

Soon there were hands on either side of his head and Damian, while not scared or intimidated, was curious and more than a little confused.

“Drake-...” That was all Damian managed out, before there were lips - so soft, God how were they so soft? - against his. He went to push the other away, but stopped himself, once there was also a warm body, pressed to his.

Damian couldn't think, could only stand as those ridiculously supple lips parted, that tongue he'd just admired - is that really the word his mind was going to use? - flicking against his lips, asking for admittance, that he hesitantly gave. Now Damian was melting. As Tim's tongue slid against his own, Damian brought his free hand up, to cup the side of the other’s neck and jaw. The hand on his staff tightened and he did his best not to drop the weapon.

They went on like this, for some time, each one changing position or tilting, as needed; hips pressing more than what would be decent, against each other. Damian found it too much to want to pull away, especially when arousal was pooling in his stomach, like he'd swallowed fire.

However, that feeling would stick, with no release, when he found Tim was pulling away. Completely. Before Damian could speak in protest, however, his hood was being yanked over his eyes, and when he scrambled to lift it, an annoyed ‘hey!’ on his lips, Tim was gone.

Gaping, Damian pulled from the structure, whipping around and then letting out a noise of frustration.

“Drake-!” Groaning, Damian scrubbed his free hand over his face and pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes squeezed shut, in annoyance. Letting out a breath, he went to turn, freezing and - he would kill him, if he ever mentioned it - squeaking, the staff used as a crutch behind him, to keep him from stumbling back.

“-Grayson! Fuck- what are you-” Damian found words hard to come by, mind still hazy, with frustrated arousal.

“Hey, Baby Bird,” again, a flinch at the name, “miss me?” Dick smiled - not his Nightwing smile, his Dick Grayson, Golden Boy one - and pulled Damian into a hug. Which only served to make Damian's situation that much more uncomfortable, especially when Dick pulled back, eyes devious.

“For me? But it's YOUR birthday.” Dick chimed, in the most charming of voices. As he pulled back, Dick moved his hands, one slowly sliding down Damian's chest, the other his arm, to where it was connected to the staff.

“You look wonderful, with Timmy's staff, Dami,” he said, leaning to mouth at Damian's jaw, moving to his neck. As he groped at him lightly, he pushed him gently, and Damian found his back against the structure, again.

A small groan left the raven-haired lad, as Dick palmed him. He met the other’s eyes and they were intense. A sharp inhale was all Damian managed, before trying to speak, only to have the thought cut short, when he realized Dick wasn't standing anymore, but kneeling, tugging down the fabric of his leggings, and spending no time explaining, before Damian was down his throat - completely down, Damian would have to take note of that.

Shuddering, Damian lifted his free hand, gloves fingers tangling in dark locks, as his other squeezed the staff again. “G-God, Grayson… what is- what the Hell is - shit, that's, nnhn - is going on?” He finally managed out.

Dick didn't respond for a while, until he swallowed around Damian and then pulled back with an obscene pop, audible over the noise from the city, that Damian was now completely ignoring.

“Just giving you a little present, Baby Bird.” He stroked at Damian, tongue moving over him, as his free hand slipped back, behind Damian. The first finger, wet with spit quickly - when had Dick even taken off his glove? - wasn't expected, but it wasn't particularly bad.

Closing his eyes, Damian tilted his head back again, simply accepting Dick’s cryptic explanation, and enjoying the treatment, even when a second and then a third finger entered him, mouth still on his cock. His breath was harsh now, coming in quick, sharp pants. The hand in Dick’s hair had been pulled away, to tug up his shirt a bit, holding it as Dick worked.

There was a resounding confusion, slipping through Damian's mind - why were his ‘Brothers’ doing this? Why now? Why him? - but Damian didn't chase it. He'd figure it out later.

Just when his thoughts started to blur, nearly completely, the sensations were gone and so was Dick, the other back-rolling into a spring and sending himself off the roof, to another, nearby.

“The fu- Grayson-! Fuck!” Damian was trembling now, so close to his peak and left that way, wet and twitching. Regrettably, and angrily, Damian yanked at his leggings and swore, in nearly every language he could think of, cursing both Tim and Dick, before he finally stopped.

Bringing his staff up, he gripped it with both hands, at the far ends, before resting his forehead on it. The moment was brief, though, as soon there was a pair of strong, thick hands, covering his own. As quickly as he lifted his head, however, he was shoved back against the structure, once more, hands pinned in their grip and throat restricted by the cool metal.

Choking, Damian could only manage a short breath, before he spoke, voice already sounding wrecked.

“Todd - hngh, l-let go -” He managed, words met with an expressionless red mask, before Jason was sliding one of his hands, to keep the staff in place, at Damian's throat, the other moving up to remove the mask, dropping it to the ground, below him.

“Evening, Baby Bird,” this time, Damian didn't flinch, the intensity of Jason's voice making him tremble, instead, “been having a good night?” Jason followed up.

The elder slid his hand back over, replacing the other, on the opposite side, still pinning Damian to the wall. He pressed a tad harder, watching the smaller twitch and arch.

“I'll take that as a yes,” Jason chucked, low and gravely, making Damian nearly whine, “I hope you're enjoying our present, tonight… or, well, our treat. You do have actual gifts, back at the manor.”

Damian could barely think, mind so clouded with arousal and frustration, but he still tried to speak. “So you - fuck - all planned this?” He earned a nod and Jason holding the bar, a bit more tightly, in his hand, as he pulled one away, to undo his belt and push his pants - no underwear, why bother? - down, tugging himself free.

A few quick strokes and Damian knew where this was going, and at this rate, he wasn't even going to think about saying no. He was teased and open and ready to go. Gripping the bar harder, he tugged himself up, legs wrapping around Jason's. He felt a hand slip under him, tugging at his leggings, and then gasped, when he felt Jason rubbing at him.

“You can say no. And I won't do this. I promise, I'll stop, right now.” Jason said and it was one of the first times Damian had ever heard the sincerity in Jason's voice. Considering that, Damian found that he didn't want to stop, despite confusion, so he gave Jason an intense look.

“If you don't fuck me, right now, Todd - hnnhh, ease up - I'll… I'll rip out your tongue.” That was all Jason needed. After Tim had aroused him, Dick had prepared him, Jason found it much easier to hold himself and carefully slide inside the other, pulling him down slightly.

Damian let out a moan, legs tightening around Jason, as the other clearly let him relax and adjust. However, soon Jason was thrusting up into him and Damian was thankful for the cape behind him, saving his back, from brick burn.

Jason didn't ease up on Damian's neck, however, as he continued to thrust. He certainly didn't press any harder, either, but he kept his grip strong, so Damian could pull himself up, if breathing got too hard. It would seem, however, that the other was enjoying it, by the keens and moans slipping past his lips.

Leaning in, to catch the sounds, Jason let out a few of his own, against and into the other’s mouth. Damian noted how different Jason's lips felt - not chapped, but rougher, thicker.

Ankles hooked behind Jason, as the larger moved, Damian looked up at him, locking eyes and panting. “G-God… Todd…” He managed, eyes fluttering. With all of the teasing and touching, Damian didn't last long, arching against Jason and spilling onto his stomach - thankfully, at some point, unknown to Damian, Jason had pushed up his shirt - and groaning.

It was a bit of time and rougher thrusting, but Jason followed soon after, spilling into Damian, making the other shift, but he didn't verbally complain.

Easing up, Jason pulled from Damian and helped the other down, to standing. With Jason's help, Damian tugged up his leggings, covering his mess, and then fixed the rest of his uniform. Watching Jason tuck himself away, Damian bit his lip.

Holding his staff, gently rubbing his neck, Damian was surprised, when Jason tucked his head under his, kissing at his throat, in an apology and calming gesture. When he'd pulled back, Damian stole a quick kiss.

Smiling, Jason picked up his mask and pulled it back on. “Happy Birthday, Baby Bird.” He said and then left Damian alone, like the others.

Still panting gently, Damian leaned himself back, against the structure, trying to comprehend what had just happened. With Tim, with Dick, with Jason. The fact that they'd planned it, the fact that all the of them had wanted a hand in teasing, arousing, and fucking Damian. His thoughts are interrupted, however, by a text, from Alfred, requesting he ‘come home for cake, before he gave it all to everyone else, without him’.

Shoving his phone away, Damian made his way off the roof and back to the manor. The way there felt strange and by the time he returned, he could feel the mess in his leggings and, despite how it made him twitch and shudder, he felt happy.

Changing quickly and wiping himself down, he made his way to the dining area, finding everyone - even Roy, who was giving him a knowing, almost inviting look - sitting, waiting.

“Happy Birthday, Baby Bird,” Bruce said, from the head of the table, “how was patrol?”

Damian tried not to blush, but he could tell by the way everyone in the room looked at him, that he had. Brightly. They all smiled, knowingly, and watched as Damian sat, opposite his Father, shifting a bit.

“Uneventful.”


End file.
